In my next life, i'd marry death
I want to be husband to the terminator of breath
I'd pamper her to know no dearth
Feed her with all my love even far above earth
I'd drench her with romance, caressings and kisses
Soak her with sensual honey with my romantic prowess
Fill her heart with my ecstatic sweetness
I'd marry death to salvage humanity from darkness
In this present life i live in so far
Death has been the greatest foe so far
Isn't she married? Is she a widow? Or a spinster
Each time she feel lonely, she plucks man like guava
In my next life, i'd marry death
To keep her away from darkening earth
That no man should know grave taking breath
I'd marry death to deprive every man the casket
If death was shown enough love, perhaps she'd be considerate
Dirge, threnody and epitaph would have no rate
We all have loved ones we've lost; death's inconsiderate
Before my next life, i hold death now as fate
Tried to prevail against kids’ quirks
in so far as I can’t hide mine
my heart strives to train, midst bliss-jerks
special child, upon God’s design
choosing to applaud his good works*.
*Ephesians 2:10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.
November 24, 2019
Edited on January 30, 2022
1st place, "A STRAND (1062)" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/31/2022.
A price is paid when we put our memories on paper
In so far as the printed word an apprenticeship
For craftsmen to weave their genius between them
That take over both astral body as well as breath of life
Opting to hide written treasures from the public eye
While family and friends add concerted aplomb
Or a noteworthy teacher pushes for publication
In revolt of Ying and Yang upon each shoulder
Delectable flavors leave us salivating
On this new treat the masses all want
For a healthy portion of stardust
To replace that starving artist within
IT’S WHAT IT IS …
If every day you sleep in church; you may not know God
You are not necessarily spiritual; but you are pious
If you’ve grade 99.9%, you’re not most educated; but you’ve first class
You are what you are, and it’s what it is
When she exhibits temperance, then she is neither lustful nor concupiscent
When she’s apparently courageous, she’s neither hotheaded nor irascible
When she adds reason in action, oh yes she be prudent
She is what she is, and it’s what it is
Because he drives he is a driver
And in so far as he plays the flute, ‘flutist’ captures him
Because he plays well the inflated round leather, dub him a footballer
For that is what he is, and it’s what it is
Assuming I be easily deceived and very unintelligent; am foolish and simpleton
What if I be a schmuck or schnook, pity me for I am stupid!
Honest description depicts reality; but malevolent eulogies do not
They give either sheer flattery or mere insults; all in all, it is what it is
Yes! You’re good, because you are
You’re bad, just because you really are
Always, words may not express aptly
But come what may, it’s what it is!
He climbed aboard that dieseling train,
on a fast track clickety clack,
to nowhere as a matter of fact.
“Ain’t hooked, I’m cool” was his refrain.
“Quit any time , I don’t need that fix,
I ain’t one of those loser pricks.
Don’t worry, got it all together,
I’m feeling light as a feather.
He only experimented with substance,
with the maker of the same,
until it became sustenance,
while aboard that train.
He climbed aboard that dieseling train,
on a fast track clickety clack,
to nowhere as a matter of fact.
“Ain’t hooked, I’m cool”, was his refrain.
He was cool. He wasn’t any fool.
It was entertainment, only a game,
Never on the job that was the rule,
He was the conductor on his train.
It chugged and roared, screaming, screeching through his veins,
Until…. it’s sudden abstinence riddled his addled brain,
And revealed his total dependence,
…Qua the substance train.
“Quit any time, I don’t need that fix,
I ain’t one of those loser pricks,
Don’t worry got it all together,
I’m feeling light as a feather.”
Webster:
Qua - in the capacity or character of: in so far as: as.
perfection is the deadliest sin
it changes the reflectrion you see in the mirror
it makes you feel bad in your own skin
when you go down its road, there isnt a cure
perfection is a big mistake
it takes control of your heart
inside you it stores all your hate
tearing your self-confidence apart
perfection means its never enough
its telling you beauty means thin
it makes you live the world rough
it says starvation is what you win
perfection stangles you in its wrath
putting weight and size above everything else
gets you in so far you just cant get back
and slowly perfection makes you hat yourself
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